


Like a Love Song

by Lyrabelacqua (orphan_account)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 10:31:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/596702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Lyrabelacqua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is what happens when Selena Gomez gets stuck in my head: Sansa gets drunk and Sandor gets his song. Present day AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Love Song

**Sunday, December 16 3:04 am**  
  
It took almost a full minute for him to wake once he heard her key in the door. He had succumbed to sleep almost an hour before, after spending half the night up sick with worry. She had promised to be back by midnight, but one had come and gone with no response to his texts. He knew he had no reason to worry. Sansa was smart. Randa, too. And when he thought back to the hell he’d put her through—the nights  _she_  had stayed up waiting for  _him_ , got him cleaned up, and put him to bed without a word—he felt like even more of a bastard. If only he had a tenth of her patience, her goodness.  
  
Around two, he caved and tried Myranda, who typed quickly back that they were getting on the metro and would be back within an hour. And finally, he slept.  
  
He heard giggling and shushing and then … _was that singing_? as the girls crossed the threshold into the apartment.   
  
" _I, I love you like a love song, baby._  
 _I, I love you like a love song, baby._  
 _I, I love you like a love song, baby._  
 _AND I KEEP HITTING RE-PEAT-PEAT-PEAT-PEAT-PEAT-PEAT!"_  
  
More giggling. Heels coming off, possibly being flung across the room. Then Randa’s voice.  
  
" _Sansa_. SANSA. You’re going to wake up the entire building, not to mention your boyfriend.”  
  
He was just barely on his feet, still half asleep and shrugging on a t-shirt, when she burst into their room and hopped up onto the bed with more grace than he judged fair or even possible for someone in her state.   
  
She dove into the bridge now, armed with a hairbrush as a microphone, emoting wildly with every high note. He leaned back against the dresser, his frustration losing to his simple wonder at the fact she had found a way to be even more adorable. He yawned and crossed his arms. Myranda stood in the doorway, trying and failing to muffle her laughs.  
  
" _No one compares, you stand alone,_  
 _To every record I own._  
 _Music to my heart, that’s what you are…_  
 _A song that goes on and on!_ ”  
  
“Whoo!” She was near panting after that last note. The song was drawing to a close. “ _I love youuuu_ ,” and here she pointed at him and dropped her knees, “ _like a love song_.” She bowed her head and clutched her chest as Myranda whisper-cheered, then raised her face in triumph. “Thank you! I love you all! I love you, Chicago! You guys have been great! Good night!”  
  
“Yes, okay, good night, for real, now, please,” he said, stepping forward. He meant to help her off the bed but she grabbed him hard and pulled him back instead, making him lose his balance and tumble forward, which was apparently the funniest thing she had ever seen in her whole life. She threw her arms around his neck as he groaned in faux-pain above her. Myranda sighed and jingled her keys.  
  
“Alright, I’ll leave you lovebirds to it. Her shoes are out here, okay? Make sure she drinks a lot of water.”  
  
“Yeah, I know the drill, believe me. Night, Randa.”  
  
“Good night?! You mean ‘good MORNING.’ I should start calling you ‘Bieber,’ I guess, huh?” She was still laughing as the front door closed behind her.   
  
Sansa was still giggling too, alternating laughs with kisses over his jaw and neck. He tried to ignore the whiskey on her breath, how good it smelled on her. Now she was moaning and practically wriggling to get closer, but he resisted even as he felt himself responding, his hips just as desperate to meet hers. She was way too drunk.  
  
“Nope, nope, nope.” He gently unhooked her arms and extracted himself. Her arms flopped back and she harrumphed, blowing a raspberry and booing and then laughing at herself again. He dragged her carefully-chosen down coverlet back and she snuggled onto his side of the bed, still warm from where he’d slept only a few minutes before. “Okay, mister. Okay, okay, okay. You win. Well, really you lose, but you win.” She was yawning already, curling into the pillow, batting him away in mock anger.   
  
“I’m going to get you some water.”  
  
“Come here first.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because.”  
  
He frowned and approached slowly, clutching another pillow over his chest as if it would protect him should she try something again.  
  
She struggled slightly to sit up, then raised her arms like a child to be hugged. This he could not refuse her, so he sat on the edge of the bed and just held her for a long moment, cradling the back of her head, loving every single thing about her. He laid her back again, folding the covers up around her. He kissed her forehead before standing, and she smiled and touched his face.  
  
He padded out to the kitchen and poured a big glass of water from the Brita in the fridge, he knew she hated to drink from the tap. He shook out a couple aspirin and returned to the room, where he found her snoring lightly. He left the glass and tablets on the nightstand—his nightstand really—and curled into bed beside her.  
  
  
 **Sunday, December 16, 10:42 am**  
  
She woke slowly, her eyelids heavy and seemingly glued shut with last night’s liner and mascara. There was something hard pressed into her cheek.  _Earrings. I must have forgotten to take them off_. She managed to get her eyes fully open, but had to close one and squint to get a good look at the glowing time on the alarm next to the bed.  _Why am I…? This is Sandor’s side_. She rolled over, feeling her stomach roll with her, and made the titanic effort to reach for her phone on the opposite side of the bed. Seven texts. Three missed calls. One new voicemail. “Uuuuggghhh.” She felt like shit.  
  
She sat up, another huge effort, and downed the glass of water and aspirin waiting for her. Her mouth felt stuffed with cotton. Water had never tasted so damn life-affirming.

Sandor was missing. The bedroom door was just slightly open, as if he hadn’t wanted to risk waking her when he shut it behind him. The “like shit” feeling hit again.  
  
She decided to change out of the dress she’d accidentally slept in, no need to further her embarrassment. She peeled it off and put on one of his clean white tees (they smelled so good) and her own flannel pj bottoms. She brushed her teeth and scrubbed her face, trying to focus on what exactly had gone down.  
  
She remembered Randa coming over, remembered giving her friend her birthday gift. She remembered the metro, the first bar, and the second. She remembered they played that dumb song about shots. And she remembered taking shots. Was it five? Six? Did they go to another bar? How’d she get home? Hadn’t she been wearing tights? Where were her shoes?  
  
“Uuughhh.”  
  
She crept silently into the kitchen and watched him work over the stove. French toast, and it smelled amazing, although the thought of eating anything at the moment was repulsive. He liked to make it because it was easy, he said, but she knew he just loved French toast. She needed to put her head down, and the cool marble counter was the perfect place.   
  
He was humming as he dipped the thick slices of bread and then laid them sizzling on the pan. She knew the melody but couldn’t have named it until she caught a few words under his breath. " _Song that goes on and onnnnnn._ ”  
  
“Is that…? Are you seriously singing Selena Gomez right now?”  
  
“Oh, but I thought you loved that song. It certainly seemed that way last night, when you came in and serenaded me. You’ve quite a lovely voice, you know.”  
  
“I…I most certainly did not.”  
  
“Randa was there. It’s a shame she didn’t get any video.”  
  
“Oh, Christ. Sandor, I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry. Was I a mess? I know I was late. I’m so sorry.”  
  
“Shut up. Really.” His voice was firm as he slid a plate of toast in front of her and she shook her head, even though she was slightly coming around to the smell of butter again. “Two fucking years you put up with me coming home like that every night. Only I was never as nice. Two fucking years. You pulled me together. You made me better.”  
  
She was blushing and he lifted her chin.  
  
“Don’t be shy. You saved my fucking life. You made my life worth living.” His eyes were shining and he cleared his throat. “Now eat your fucking toast. Please.”


End file.
